


Enjoying The View

by adrift_me



Series: Old Light, New Light [12]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Shameless Smut, War Table Sex, the war table is right there so i consider it an invitation to write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29317857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: “I’ve wondered...” the Crow inserts in-between a particularly pleasant bite on the Guardian’s lip and a deep French kiss, “how long it would take for us to make use of the war table.”Guardian and Crow do interesting things on the H.E.L.M. war table.
Relationships: Guardian/Crow, Guardian/Uldren Sov
Series: Old Light, New Light [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090106
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	Enjoying The View

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new season everyone!!! I saw the war table and my thoughts went exactly in the direction you see down below. Hope you enjoy it LOL. Spoilers abound!
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :) I also take prompts!](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

The Guardian finds themselves in the H.E.L.M. at a late hour, not that time matters as much to their kind. But here is a magnificent view of the City, lit up with a multitude of yellow spots and the neon advertisements that litter each and every skyscraper. From here, the Traveler is visible, watchful over its charges.

The frames are not present in the room, and the place feels oddly sterile. The light from the war table glistens with sky blue, and the quiet whispering of transmitted messages works as a white noise good enough.

“Enjoying the view?” Crow asks, walking from within thin air. He gives the surroundings a cautious look and slips the black mask off his face, setting it on the table.

The Guardian nods and gives the City another thoughtful look before fully focusing on Crow.

Spoils indeed.

Crow looks at himself, at the drapes of silver and black and white, and the dangerously sharp rows of scales on his arms that look stark against the dim room. The new armor gives Crow prominence, and it is all too obvious in his posture, too.

Crow sits up and settles on the edge of the war table, and the Guardian can’t help but wonder if the Hunter is being such a tease on purpose. Maybe it is the stress or maybe it is the timing, but a longing for something almost wicked settles in the Guardian’s chest.

They walk around the table and press to Crow in certain steps, fitting between his legs and sliding their arms around his body. It is not the first time they cuddle in such a manner, but there is a different air around them today.

“You tease me, Guardian,” he says, a blush touching his pale cheeks, making the ripples of light almost pink blush.

The Guardian sighs and kisses the Hunter, and for a long while it is only the sounds of chapped lips against softer ones, tongues playing and sounds, so beautiful and sinful.

“I’ve wondered...” the Crow inserts in-between a particularly pleasant bite on the Guardian’s lip and a deep French kiss, “how long it would take for us to make use of the war table.”

The Guardian thinks they could get on with it sooner, but they wouldn’t complain.

The cloak goes first. It’s so easy to pull at it, let it slide, unwrap Crow layer by layer of clothes, first, and then feelings. Shyness is taken over by want, and want is driven by passion.

The glass surface of the war table is too cold to keep the Guardian laying on it long enough, and the air is cool, too. Crow’s cloak is good enough to serve as a cover, and in perspective, for other things, too.

The Guardian looks up for a brief moment, taking time to caress Crow’s face and the slight line that is left from his mask. It is liberating, for the both of them, to have no secrets to hide here in this room. No one to fear and no one to hide from.

“Can I got for it before I catch too many feelings and end up crying on your chest?” Crow says both with playful impatience and shyness that still touches his voice. The Guardian nods, and the Crow loses no time to press his hips against the Guardian’s and take them.

The feeling... It is many things at once. The coldness of the glass beneath them and the softness of silk, the pooling heat that threatens to grow into a furnace with each thrust. Crow’s eyes, closed, and his mouth, open, moaning the Guardian’s name. The absolute stillness of the room makes them feel adrift in time, and the Guardian falls to a space so liminal, it burns from inside their chest.

Pleasure is immeasurable. It happens soon, when the Crow can’t hold back any longer and the Guardian is clawing at his back, urging. Crow comes first, with a choked out moan and a stutter, and the Guardian follows minutes later, letting all the exhaustion and stress come out in a single quiet sound.

Coming down takes the longest. They both lie on the war table, with space enough for both, and stare at the sterile ceiling where City lights reflect in whole new galaxies.

“I can never get tired of doing this with you,” Crow says quietly, slipping his fingers in-between the Guardian’s. They squeeze his hand and sigh. Neither can they.

“Are we going to repeat this?” A hopeful question. The Guardian laughs and turns to look at Crow, who snuggles in closer and rests his head against the Guardian’s chest. The answer to that question is, undoubtedly, yes.


End file.
